Just Another Sunday

Just Another Sunday

Publication: The Lookout

Date: February 29, 2004

Column: Another Look

Category: Church; Volunteers; Service

It was just another Sunday morning at the church down the street. As usual, Ralph's Buick Skylark was the first car in the parking lot. Every week, Ralph comes early to turn on the lights and start some coffee brewing in the church kitchen before others arrive.

Soon the worship leader and a sleepy-looking team of volunteers walked in and began to tune their instruments and adjust the sound system. "Better wake up, guys," he said, "we need to be at our best today." They prayed together, then began to practice their music.

Gradually the building began to buzz with activity. Eight-year-old Jennifer ran straight to her Sunday school classroom where the teacher greeted her with a hug. Her older brother Jason talked about last night's basketball game with a group of friends. Ninety-two-year-old Alma made her way to the third row on the right side of the sanctuary, where she used to sit with her husband before he died five years ago.

A first-time visitor who wasn't sure he believed in God, Tom nervously shook hands with the greeter who met him at the door, then hurried to grab a seat in the back row.

Sondra and Rafael were new in town, but they looked forward to seeing their new friends in the young adult Bible class. They sat next to Bill and Melissa, who excitedly told the rest of the group about a child they were in the process of adopting.

Three men knelt with the preacher in his study and prayed for him, as they have done every Sunday for the last four years. It had been a rough week, but after his friends prayed, the minister felt uplifted and ready to preach.

Meanwhile, four volunteers were preparing communion in the kitchen. Later that afternoon, others would visit rest homes and hospitals, pray for the sick, and share with them the bread and the cup.

Soon the worship service began, and it was alive with the presence of God.

Even monotone Harry, who joked that he "couldn't carry a tune in a bucket," sang out as the music swelled to a crescendo of praise. Everything grew quiet, though, when one of the elders walked to the front and explained that the church was going to collect a special offering to help a local family whose house had burned down the week before.

The preacher's humorous opening illustration brought laughter and applause, followed by a serious message straight from Scripture and straight from the preacher's heart. At the end of the sermon a couple in their fifties walked forward to affirm their faith in Christ and to be baptized. The one who influenced them most, they said, was their granddaughter who told them, "I don't want to go to Heaven without you being there too." Another new member was introduced: a single mom who tearfully expressed gratitude for the way the congregation had made her and her daughter feel at home.

After the closing prayer, the noise level rose as the worshipers spilled out into the hallway past displays offering information about small groups, missionaries, and a Bible college the church supports.

"My mother is back in the hospital," Joan whispered to Annie as they both headed for the door. "I will visit her this week," Annie replied.

A young man home from college for the weekend felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. It was Mr. Williams, an elderly gentleman who had become like a grandfather to him. Mr. Williams handed his young friend a $20 bill and said, "Here's some gas money for your trip back to school. I'm proud of you, son. Keep up the good work."

Finally everyone was gone. Ralph turned out the lights and locked the front door, then he walked to his Buick Skylark—the last car in the parking lot. He pulled onto the street, where busy drivers steered past the silent church building without giving it a thought.

After all, it was just another Sunday morning.